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THE BOOK 


V-.'OF'''' * 

FAIRIES AND FANCIES 


A SERIES OF POEMS 



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THE BOOK 


3^aii c ie$ cii|d 


A Series of Poems. 


bv 

Henry C. Dailey. 

ii 


\ 


GIBSON BROTHERS, PRINTERS. 
1882. 


i ^ 1 * 


Copyright, 1882, by Henry C. Dailey, 
Washington, D. C. 


I'H^ 


PREFACE. 


CVOMETIMES it is a matter of pleasurable 
curiosity that prompts this inquiry : What 
suggests to the author’s mind the novel scenes 
and incidents which he delineates, and where 
does he find the beings with whom he peoples 
his little world of fancy ? 

It was at an early hour of the morning when 
the author was rambling through an open forest, 
where the oak locked arms with the beech, and 
the chestnut consorted with the maple. 

Grasses and creeping vines, mingled with 
mounds of velvety moss and clumps of graceful 
ferns, made a pleasing variety in the green home 
of the woods. 

The bright sunlight streaming through the 
trees resembled patches of silver set in the green 
foliage, while shifting shadows that lay upon the 
ground formed pictures of branching trees — the 
dim and checkered tracery of the forest. The 
woods breathed a regaling fragrance. There too 
was a variety of singing birds, some of them war- 
bling the most musical and liquid notes. 

A happy little brook meandered through the 
place, having its quiet confidences of still waters 
among wild lilies and straying vetches, and then 


4 


preface. 


ran away to tumble and laugh in little water-falls 
among moss-covered rocks. 

It was a place for the play of imagination, like 
the Vale of Tempe, which the ancient poets peo- 
pled with beautiful nymphs, fauns, and satyrs, 
where Pan the Piper played to them his pastoral 
melodies. 

In a spot so attractive, at such an hour, one 
cannot help but cast his eyes around, expecting 
to see a troop of festive nymphs in airy costume 
burst out of the embowering sun-beams, or rise 
out of the mist of the meadow and valley, and 
trip gaily through the forest and field, bearing in 
their right hands a goblet-flower brimming with 
sparkling wine-dew, while they chant a hymn to 
the frolic divinities. They are the fairy maids of 
twilight, the merry dancers of the morning, who 
reappear at night when silence reigns, and in the 
hush and glory of the hour they renew their revels 
and sport in the moonlight and shade. 

When you hear the whip-poor-will, from his 
covert of alder or willow, briskly lashing the air 
with his whipping song, and his lonely neighbor 
switching his alternate notes, while the moon is 
fitfully passing in and out of the cloud — that is 
the hour of night when fairies are abroad. 

This is given on the authority of the fanciful 
muse, and we suppose it must be so. 

We have spent a pleasant half-hour with these 
fairy folks, and have enjoyed their gay life and 
good nature. They are not known to have much 
taste for books, nor are they very social with prat- 


PREFACE. 


5 


tling rustics who traverse their domain ; conse- 
quently they' may never know that there was a 
child among them taking notes. The little poems 
that follow the fairies are descriptive of another 
part of the train of mythical beings. 

Cupid is absorbed in the romantic life of the 
rural deities. Love inspires the song of birds in 
spring-time ; he is the companion of the naiad 
in her wanderings ; he assists the industrious 
maiden, and winds and toys with the thread as 
she draws it from her distaff ; he flies from bower 
to bower ; he whispers tender lore in the ravished 
ear of beauty ; he steals upon his bucolic votaries 
at the grotto of the nymphs, and his presence em- 
bellishes the romance that surrounds the life of 
mortals and guardian divinities. 

















































i 





























. 



















































































































































































CONTENTS. 


Page. 

Preface 3-5 

The Fairies 9 

The Fairies’ Morning Banquet 21 

Fairies taking a Shower-Bath in the Forest 25 

Fairies by Moonlight 31 

Aurora 33 

The Concert of Spring-Time.. 34 

'The Maid of Autumn. 35 

Cupid Quenching his Thirst 36 

Wanderings of Cupid and the Naiad 37 

Cupid Among the Dryads 53 

Cupid With the Oreads 55 

Oreads in Laurel Dress 57 

Cupid on a Couch 58 

Love’s Secrets 59 

The Broken Thread 61 

The Coming Love 63 



THE FAIRIES. 


Hail ! Fairies, lovely Maids of Dawn, 

Who trip the green dew-dappled lawn, 

Of ye, bright Nymphs of Morn, I sing, 

While garlands from the muse I bring. 

The dew gleams on the heather bloom, 

The lark soars o’er the wild-wood gloom, 
And circles singing towards the sky, 

Till lost to sight of fairy eye. 

Beside this rock where princess-pine 
And ivy o’er green mosses twine, 

A soft luxurious seat invites, 

That tempts to view enchanting sights. 

I’ll watch your gambols as I list, 

Robed beauties of the meadow mist, 

Whom fair Aurora’s golden light 
Adorns with iris-tinges bright; 

And here composed in grateful ease, 

The mystic, fairy scene shall please. 

So ye come forth when morn awakes, 

That clothes with radiance ferns and brakes,- 
Cast at the East a wistful glance, 

And in the rosy twilight dance. 


IO 


THE FAIRIES. 


Your merry laugh and voices start, 

From every grot some eager heart, 

Some sister tenant of the grove, 

Whose morning charms all eyes approve. 


The sylvan bowers swing wide their gates, 
Each occupant attentive waits 
The winding of the silver horn, 

That calls you to salute the Morn. 

And when the hills have caught the note, 
Back to your homes the sound they float, 
From whence sweet Echo flies away 
Among the groves and shadows gray, 

A whispering spirit, voice divine, 

Expiring at the wood-nymph’s shrine. 

Round your abode all’s hushed and clear, 
The note salutes no other ear. 

None hear nor know that welcome call, 
Beyond the courts of Fairy-Hall. 

With blue-eyed Sylph, that genius good, 

Ye tread the purple lighted wood, 

And trip the mystic mazes free, 

A bounding troop in lively glee. 

Soft vines rise nestling to your feet, 

And tall reeds bow their heads to greet 
Those fairy flowing robes so gay, 

That sweep with lithe forms where ye stray, 


THE FAIRIES. 


II 


While warbling bird-choirs hail the scene, 
Perched in the laurel coppice green, 

And from his rosy velvet throat, 

The song-thrush rolls his liquid note ; 

In concert pipes the rhythmic lay, 

On beechen bough and boxen spray. 

Ye lightly tread with nimble pace, 

And Dawn extends her every grace, 

Adorning all those trysting-grounds, 

Where whirl ye swift the festive rounds 
With all your loves, a sportive band, 

Waltzing to magic flute and wand. 

Fantastic robes of gossamer, 

Finer than finest floss of fur, 

Float the soft bursting twilight’s glow, 

Like viewless threads* that nightly flow, 

From magic looms and faintly gleam 
In moon-light o’er the crystal stream. 

Along your path while passing by, 

Those rustic bards, cicadae, lie, 

From drink of wine-dews through the night, 
Still languid on their couches light ; 

But now they leave their grassy beds, 

And with low dronings lift their heads, 

And harp their shrilly minstrelsies 
To Love and frolic deities. 

* Viewless threads, — The spider’s web covered with dew, as seen by 
moonlight along the edges of a brook. 


12 


THE FAIRIES. 


A habit clasps each dainty waist, 
Wrought like a bodice half-way laced, 
Light as the mantling web* that spreads 
O’er emerald meads its slender threads, 
And of the down of roses made, 

To deck the beauties of the glade. 

A scarf o’er spotless shoulders thrown, 
The waist twines gently in a zone, 

Nor quite conceals embosomed charms, 
And added grace of comely arms, 
Beneath the gauze of wizard looms, 
Where prime voluptuous beauty blooms. 
Exalted Venus, goddess proud, 

Might stop her chariot on the cloud, 

And rest her bridled doves awhile, 

To give you her approving smile ; 

For that her' sceptre ye revere, 

With votive offerings ye appear, 

Who bind the sacred myrtle green, 

And wear the rose of Beauty’s Queen. 
And while ye deftly dance around 
The glad old beech on hallowed ground, 
Your silver-slippered feet are seen, 

That twinkle o’er the tufted green, 

Your steps as harmless as your mirth, 

To every tender thing of earth. 


* Mantling web, — The spider’s web seen on the young rowen in the morn- 
ing after a heavy dew. 


Scene: — Dancing Around the Beech . 


The fairies, in a ring are seen dancing in frolic gambols around 
the sacred beech-tree, — their hair flowing in loose array, and 
their airy zones waving over their shoulders, looking merry and 
joyous. 





THE FAIRIES. 


15 


Your flowing garments wanton court 
The vagrant airs that round them sport, 

In sweet and subtle confluence 
With a delicious redolence, 

That’s shed by soft and passionate gales, 
Retreating down the floral vales. 

The balmy forest’s green arcades, 

Bear incense in their fringing shades, 

Where, if the muse would deign to tell, 

Your loves in fragrant odors dwell; 

Else why do ye delighted rove, 

Like nymphs through Tempe’s vale and grove, 
Or, guided by the rosy Hours, 

Seek pleasure in Idalian bowers ? 

And as you tip-toe twirling go, 

To soft and rippling music’s flow, 

Your filmy scarfs by breezes kissed, 
Transparent float like veils of mist,* 

That through the green-clad valley creep, 

And slowly climb its woody steep, 

To catch Aurora’s dancing rays 

That pink the hills and cheer the Fays. 

Through matchless garbs that faintly shield, 
Like spangled webs o’er verdant field, 


* Veils of mist,— A cloud of thick, white fog, rising from a wet valley 
and rolling up the hillsides, totally obscuring the ground in places, while 
above, all is rosy sunlight— a morning scene. 


i6 


THE FAIRIES. 


The loveliest types of beauty rise, 
With borrowed halo of the skies. 
’Tis Cupid’s finger that imprints 
The dimples with their rosy tints, 
Where little loves in shadows play, 
And kiss the blushing lady Fay. 


Down to the girdled waist ye wear 
A wanton growth of gorgeous hair, 

As though ye merry light-foot elves 

Had shorn the clouds and decked yourselves 

With all their golden fringes bright, 

That gild the Dawn with flaming light. 

The morn smiles blandly o’er the downs, 
Which your array of beauty crowns, 

Whose witching motions both entrance, 

And all your fairy charms enhance. 

Alert, ye know what time the sun 
Begins his fiery course to run ; 

As well as when the purple West 
Sees Phoebus sink on Thetis’ breast, 

And drown his beams of fading light, 

In slumbers of the starry night. 

And ere the twilight pales to day, 

From joyous bout ye hie away, — 

Glance back the while with frequent views, — * 
Cast sidelong looks, and wave adieus 


THE FAIRIES. 


17 


To sacred trees that shade the space, 
Your sweetly garnished trysting-place. 

The sweet -fern and the fragrant mint, 
And pink wild rose of beauteous tint, 
Perfume your robes, while tiny flowers 
Line mystic paths to wood-lawn bowers. 
Up green-wood aisles ye skip along, 
With sprightly step and matin song, 
While on the sward ye merry crew 
Leave fairy foot-prints in the dew, 

That soon the sun-god will destroy, 
Whose rays pursue your dance of joy. 

Birch, beech, and hazel start the lay, 
Where song-bird sings on leafy spray. 
The echoes in the sleepy vale 
E’en wake, sweet voiced, and gladly hail 
Your buskined band now gliding by, 
Dashing the dew wild roses dye ; 

And not a flower that lifts its head 
But smiles beneath your gentle tread. 







Scene — The Fairies' Morning Banquet. 


Here the fairies are represented as going around among the 
flowers in the early morning, and in various attitudes, are tip- 
ping the flower-cups, both of high and low growth, and sipping 
the dew which is the little banquet found in every flower. 



THE FAIRIES’ MORNING BANQUET. 


Amid those fragrant rural haunts, 

Small realms supply your dainty wants. 

Ye spread no sumptuous tables there, 

With heaping plates of tempting fare ; 

No smoking viands grace your feast, 

With spices of the farther East; 

No Hebe bears full goblets round, 

Where all are Hebes fitly crowned. 

But Morn presents with full delight, 

The fresh and savory cups of Night. 

And though a band of temperate taste, 

The sight is beautiful and chaste, 

Of Fairies at their cups at morn, 

That Nature’s pencilings adorn, — 

Cups of nectareous fare distilled 
From unseen cisterns nightly filled. 

Yours is the food, the dear delight 
Of humming-birds of shadowy flight, 

That skim the meads, haunt wood-land bowers, 
And sip the purest, sweetest flowers ; 

’Tis not the product of the vine, 

With spirit-beaded ruby wine, 


22 the fairies’ morning banquet. 

Where Bacchus, o’er the vintage plain, 

In revels, leads the festal train ; 

But balmy is the amber tide, 

That virgin hearts of flowers have dyed, 
Whose mild exhilaration shows 
The health and beauty of the rose ; 

And Earth’s maternal bosom yields 
The fragrant fruitage of the fields ; 

And here, Aurora like, ye stray, 

To taste the banquet of the day ; 

For every path that ye explore, 

Presents from Heaven some balmy store, 
And offers at this elfin hour, 

A little banquet in each flower, 

Whose mellowing spirit prompts the dance, 
And brightens every fairy glance. 

From tippling o’er the tinctured bowls, 

The nectared cordial nature doles, 

In merry mood ye frisk away 

O’er mushrooms, moss, and lichens gray ; 

The sentry snail within its shell, 

Darts out and peers around its cell ; 

The cricket and all bustling things 
Of insect kind, with gau^y wings, 

Creep out beneath their briar-leaf bowers, 
And blithely mount their sentry-towers, 


Scene — Shower-Bath in the Forest . 


A large and ancient oak stands in a path where it commands 
a full view down the track of a forest-vista. In the hollow of 
this old oak dwells a wood-nymph. The opening in the tree is 
completely curtained with climbing vines, so that there is no 
appearance of a doorway. Here the nymph stands and peers 
through the vine-curtain, watching the bath scene in the forest. 



the shower bath. 


25 


And chirp and buzz with skips and hops, 
Where weeds uprear their tinsel tops, 

All startled, as ye airy maids 

Flit past and pierce the woods’ arcades. 


FAIRIES TAKING A SHOWER-BATH IN 
THE FOREST. 


Now here another scene awaits; — 

A wood-nymph, through her sylvan gates, 
Was peeping out with twinkling eyes, 
And saw you in that frolic guise, — 
Beheld your pranks and capers there, 
That one day with an artless care 
She told, while every glowing word 
The tell-tale muse delighted heard ; 

For all she saw round oak and yew, 

The nymph most soothly vowed was true. 

“ Embowered within the hollow oak, 

At Dawn’s first flushing I awoke, 

And swept aside the veil of vines 
That round the ancient doorway twines. 


26 


THE SHOWER BATH. 


The opening vista-paths I viewed — 

Abodes of pleasant solitude. 

While bosomed in this oak I stood, 

Among the garments of the wood 
I heard a rustling that amazed, 

But still, though timidly, I gazed. 

It was a fitful sound I heard, 

Though not a breeze the branches stirred ; 

As though the nymphs from grove and lawn, 
Were shaking out their robes at dawn. 

And there, my girls, O, what a scene ! 

All round upon the branches green, 

Our dearest trees whose wealth of leaves 
The bough in tangled clusters weaves, 
Perched like a flock of birds bestormed, 

A host of little Cupids swarmed. 

They shook the leaves and twigs o’er head, 
That rattled at their naked tread, 

And made the dew rain down in showers, 
Like fountains weeping over flowers. 

Beneath, where streaked the witching shade, 
A troop of frolic fairies played, 

Who romped and reveled as they flew 
To face the dropping bath of dew. 

Unzoned, they shook their tresses free, 

And caught the showers with laughing glee. 
The pattering drops down sparkling rolled, 
Now liquid silver and now gold, 


THE SHOWER BATH. 


27 


Which oft, as pearls and opals fair, 

They tried to fasten in their hair 
As gems, for some bright glancing ray 
To variegate with colors gay. 

Their ringlets 'all with spangles tipped, 

Adown their flushing shoulders dripped ; 

They tossed their wavy curls unbound, 

While brilliant showers leaped flashing round, 
And oft their glances shot above 
Coquetting with some favorite Love. 

Disporting in their mirthful gales, 

With hair whisked round in wimpling veils, 
They pleased in many a winsome way 
The laughing Loves who watched their play. 
But when Aurora brighter shone, 

I looked, the Cupids all had flown. 

The fairies left their bath of dew, — 

They tipped a glance at ether blue, 

Then snatched their zones that hung between 
The hazel bough and evergreen, 

And slid away in gossamer bright, 

Upon the beams of rosy light.” 







Scene — Fairies on their Couches Dozing by Day , 
and then Frisking by Moonlight. 


Here the fairies are represented as reclining on their couches 
in secluded grottos, and dozing away the hours of the day. At 
night they reappear and frisk in the moonlight. In meadow 
and grove the fairies are seen as merry dancers in gauzy robes, 
sometimes twirling in the moonlight, and now chasing the trail- 
ing shadows while a cloud is passing over the face of the moon. 
Now they stop and look into the heart of the flowers, and now 
listen to the voice of the rill, or gaze into the darkling spring 
to hear and learn something from the naiads. 






FAIRIES BY MOONLIGHT. 


But where is found that secret home, 

From whence in twilight hours ye roam? 
Some grotto doubtless shelters you, 

Ye frisky foresters, from view, 

Where, on soft dreamy beds ye doze, 

Till night returns that shuts the rose. 

And when deep silence reigns around 
Your palace grotto, verdure crowned, 

Ye come again to Dryad courts, 

Arrayed for your fantastiq sports, 

And trip the moon-lit trysting-place, — 

Twirl in the dance, or briskly chase 
The shadows trailing from the cloud, 

That hide the moon with fitful shroud, 

Till lost amid some tangled flight, 

Or snatched away in silvery light. 

The dim wild beauty ye survey, 

Of virgin groves and meadows gray, 

And peer into each open flower 

That holds the dew-drops’ trembling shower. 

The sparkling rill that leaps and sings 
From blooming urns of Naiad springs, 






32 


FAIRIES BY MOONLIGHT. 


Ye love to follow, just to hear 
The tale it tells to fairy ear, 

Of nymphal loves, victorious charms, 
Of pining hearts, and soft alarms, 





AURORA. 


Through pleasant paths of rosy light, 

With trailing garments pure and bright, 

Aurora comes, Dawn’s heavenly maid, 

All blushing to the lessening shade ; 

Now here, now there, she gently glides, 

And round the nodding blossoms hides ; 

Broad leaves and mosses form complete, 

Soft cushions for her perfect feet ; 

And poised thereon she tip-toe stands, — 

Bends down the stalk with eager hands, 

And tips the morning-glories new, 

And quaffs the cool and fragrant dew, — 

While down her robes, mid vines and flowers, 
Stray dew-drops roll in mimic showers ; 

And those sweet cups Aurora sips 
Give fresher bloom to Beauty’s lips. 


THE CONCERT OF SPRING-TIME. 


When Nature weaves in silent looms 
The fabrics of her vernal blooms, 

And paints the leaf with fragrant dyes 
For flowers beneath mild summer skies, — 
Then Fairy-like, through field and grove, 
With books of melodies ye rove, 

And call the birds to perch and sing 
Sweet concerts to the Maid of Spring. 
From books extended to their gaze, 

They gaily warble tuneful lays ; 

With swaying beaks they trill the note 
That with their fluttering wings they float ; 
Now soft and low, now loud and clear, 

In liquid tones that charm the ear. 

Before the warbling feathered choir, 

The Maid of Spring, in bright attire, 
Wields Cupid’s dart in rhythmic time, 

To guide the flow of music’s rhyme, 

And points the measure to prolong, 

Or what to swell in amorous song, 

To woo their coyish loves that wait 
With longing for the tuneful mate ; 

And while the leaves ye sylvans turn, 

The birds their songs in spring-time learn. 


THE MAID OF AUTUMN. 


With looks more sweetly sad than gay, 
Fair Autumn trips her troubled way, 
Where mantling gold and russet hues 
Soft beauty o’er the scene diffuse. 

She comes the summer blooms to close, 
That chaste Aurora fondly chose, 

From which, with dew in trickling rills, 
Each roving nymph her flagon fills. 
Among the curving branches twines 
A pendent chair of looping vines, 
Whereon she sits and caps the flowers, 
Like lamp-lights that illume her bowers, 
And sadly hides her sight from all 
Extinguished blossoms as they fall. 
Heaped in her lap in clusters lie, 

Ripe fruit and grain, and grasses dry. 
The lone flower-bell that highest grows, 
Fair Cupid climbs the stalk to close. 
With slender rod he reaches up 
And deftly shuts the tender cup. 

And Love untwists the curling vine, 

And decks with garlands Flora’s shrine. 
Thus Love and Autumn cherish blooms 
That Winter to oblivion dooms. 


CUPID QUENCHING HIS THIRST. 


A Naiad found the Archer-Boy, 

Who would the rosy hours employ, 

In seeking by his roguish arts, 

For trophies of his random darts. 

A wreath of flowers with myrtle bound, 

He wove, and Beauty there was crowned. 
These garlands as a gift he deigned, 

Then parching thirst he archly feigned, — 
Receives a kiss with sweet surprise, 

And sees himself in Beauty’s eyes. 

She counterfeits with artful ease, 

A drinking-cup the Youth to please. 

Her snowy drapery lightly rolled, 

Lies round her feet in careless fold, 
Whereon the thirsty Cherub stands, 
Serenely drinking from her hands. 

Her features slyly he surveys, 

That, goddess-like, attract his gaze, 

While she regards the lovely Boy, 

With fond complacent looks of joy, 

As with her palms filled to the brim, 

She graciously extends to him, 

A cooling draught of water clear, 

Dipped from a limpid fountain near. 


WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 


Through tangled wilds and garden-bowers, 
They rambling speed the happy hours, 
And roses bloom where’er they go, 

With sweeter scent and warmer glow. 
Now from her side he slips away, 

Some witchery prompting him to stray, 
Where, in his vine-embowered retreat, 

He lurks and laughs at the conceit ; 

And from his covert’s leafy nooks, 

He peers around with roguish looks, 

Just bending at the thicket’s edge 
Of myrtle clump, or tree, or hedge, 

And watches for the nymph unseen, 

Whose glowing cheek and troubled mien, 
In her distraction him elates, 

While for her step the rover waits. 

Joy flashes in her gladdened eyes 
When she his face and form espies, 

With bow and quiver at his side, 

Which half concealed he feigns to hide, 
Then quickly from his lurking place, 

He runs with gifts to her embrace. 









































Scene — Cupid and the Naiad on the Sea-Shore 
Listening to Singing Shells. 


Here reclining in the shade, Cupid and the Naiad listen to 
the voices of the singing shells, while the boy, delighted with 
their soft murmurings, expresses a desire to catch and carry away 
some of these vocal shells to plant in the urns and streams of 
their Elysium, where, he and the Naiad may always hear their 


sweet music. 



































































































WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 4 1 

Alone they trace the purling rills 
That sparkling thread the rolling hills, 

And wind through meads o’er golden sands, 
’Neath flowery banks in fairy lands, 

And thus run rippling to the end, 

Where sweet and bitter waters* blend. 

Here, on a green moss-pillowed shore, 

With shading willows arching o’er, 

They lounge, composed in blissful ease, 

Fanned by a softly rustling breeze, 

And listen with delighted sense 
To Ocean’s viewless instruments, 

Whose dreamy music all the day, 

Floats o’er the smooth and tranquil bay, — 
Sweet voices of melodious shells, f 
Whose happy murmur louder swells, 

When still and calm the waters lie, 

Basking beneath the azure sky. 

The mariner while sailing near, 

Stands mute and turns a listening ear ; 

And mermaids in their grots immured, 

Are from their coral seats allured ; 

In cloud-like robes of snowy foam, 

They float above their palace home, 


* Sweet and bitterfwaters,— The Sea. 

t Melodious shells, — There is a place near the shore of an eastern sea, 
so mariners aver, where a multitude of singing shells make a soft mur- 
muring music that is as wonderful as it is pleasant to hear. 


42 WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 

Attentive to the concert free 
Of shells that sing beneath the sea. 

While loitering on the magic shore, 

Where skies their sea-tuned warblings pour, 
Enraptured and aglow with joy, 

Thus importunes the dimpled Boy : 

“ Sweet nymph, where live the little elves 
That sing so sweetly by themselves ? 

I’ve called and sought them for an hour, 

But cannot find their tuneful bower. 

Pray tell me, for I die to hear, 

And I will braid thee, Hebe dear, 

A chaplet for thy gracious brow, 

Of roses twined with myrtle bough.” 

“ My darling child,” replies the nymph, 

“ Deep in yon blue and briny lymph, 

Is the Elysium where they dwell ; 

Each home is but a pearly shell, 

And there thy tuneful elfins sing-; 

From there these dreamy murmurings spring. 
Each shell within its bosom bears 
A baby pearl whose life it shares ; 

And rocking shells mid Neptune’s swirls, 

Waft music from the rolling pearls. 

Perhaps a boy resembling thee 

Hath timed their hearts to minstrelsy.” 


WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 43 

“ O let me go,” the Child implores, 

“ Bid Neptune lead me to his stores. 

I’ll charm away these elfin things, 

Each with its pearl that sweetly sings, 

And thy Elysium shall contain 
These fairy treasures of the main. 

I’ll plant them in thy waters pure, 

Where they shall ever thee allure. 

Thy streams shall murmur with their voice, 
And every gurgling rill rejoice. 

The limpid fount and bubbling spring, 

For thee a melody shall sing. 

The laughing brook that winds and whirls, 
Shall tune- thy shells with humming pearls. 
I’ll plant them in thy dewy flowers, 

To vocalize the dropping showers. 

Thy flowery urns in mystic choirs, 

Shall breathe like soft Hjolian lyres ; 

The fairest pearls thy charms shall swell, 

Thy breast shall wake the dulcet shell ; 

And in its musical low moan, 

Love’s sigh shall mingle with thine own.” 

To hear the infant’s melting words, 

Is sweeter than the song of birds. 

His raptured eyes her heart beguile, 

And wait on Beauty’s answering smile ; 


44 WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 

But as her toying fingers wind 
Among his sunny locks entwined, 

Or. smoothly round his temples glide, 

The gracious nymph, with tender pride, 

In pleasant words of gentle joy, 

Thus speaks to soothe the lovely boy : — 

“The ocean has its vocal bays, 

Where little syrens warble praise 
To sea-nymplis, in whose life we trace 
The lineage of a kindred race. 

Enamored with the surgy tide, 

On flying steeds they gaily ride, 

And through the watery realm they roam, 
Mid sporting gales and dancing foam ; 
Now proudly climb the billow’s breast, 
Tossed in its white and foamy crest, — 
Race through the briny valleys wild, 

With hilly waters round them piled, 

Or skim the lucid main afar, 

As fleet as rolls the sea-god’s car. 

Remote upon the glassy plain, 

They see another nymphal train 
Approaching from the ocean’s rim, 

Now full in view, now veiled and dim, 
Encircled with a cloud of spray, 

Where heavenly rain -bows brightly play. 


Scene — Meeting of the Sea-Nymphs . 


The sea-nymphs are riding upon their horses over the waves 
to meet a company of sister nymphs who are coming from another 
quarter. They all assemble in a valley, or sea-grotto, and there 
they recite tales and adventures and tell the gossip of their re- 
spective climes. 

Some are holding shells to their ears, while others are playing 
upon shell-harps. Upon their return to their coral caves, the 
singing shells honor the sea-nymphs with the concert that is 
heard by the wanderers on the shore. 















































































, 


. 

















. 







































































WANDERINGS OE CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 47 

They dash along the swelling sea 
With pride and gay festivity, 

And shake the sea-foam from their hair 
Like bubbles on the breezy air ; 

Then rein their coursers to the spot 
Where sister nymphs erect the grot. 

And here, dear boy, are warmly sung 
Sweet themes that suit the fluent tongue. 
Their banquet is the treasured lore 
That nymphs delight to prattle o’er. 

But in their mazy, mirthful gales, 

They blithely weave enchanting tales, 

Cite new adventures, mingling these 
With gossip of the distant seas. 

A flood of soul-regaling news, 

Those nymphal bands with joy diffuse. — 
Returning to their grotto-caves, 

Hid by the friendly guarding waves, 

The viewless choirs awake with glee, 

And breathe their tiny minstrelsy. 

\ 

We have our tuneful groves and dells, — 
They claim their bays with syren shells ; 
Thus through our homes there floats along, 
The spirit of the god of song. 

I would not have ouf fountains mute 
And voiceless as the broken flute, 


48 WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 

But slied around on zephyr wings, 

The soft aerial murmurings 
Of breathing shells, in cadence sweet, 

That blooming urns may oft repeat, 

And purest rills of purling flow, 

Resound as we a-wandering go. 

Dear boy, and wouldst thou know the way 
To coral caves where sea-nymphs play ? 
Then view the rain-bow ere have flown 
The rays that dye the mystic zone ; 

And where sublime it tints the shore, 

Or touches cliffs high-towering o’er, 

There lies the secret grotto-cave, — 

There Nereids in the waters lave, — 

And there they rise with nymphal grace, 
And trip the waves with airy pace, 

While their ambrosial tresses stray, 

And wanton with the beauteous ray ; 

But while they gaze towards fairy lands, 
Where rise the rain-bow’s gorgeous bands, 
Or lift their eyes to quivered Love 
Who treads the moss-grown crag above, 
Then let thy rose-tipped arrows fly, 

To cut the rain-bow’s richest dye, 

That they may see thy glowing darts, 

And catch them in their waiting hearts, 


WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 49 

For by those mystic shafts of thine, 

That kindle tender fires divine, 

Young Love the pearl-decked nymphs can hold, 
Till with persuasive tongue of gold, 

He tells them, and with rapture tells, 

His longing for their warbling shells. 

What nymph thy flowery dart pursues, 

Will then the Elfin boon refuse ?” 

And thus the Naiad holds the child, 

With happy speech and accents mild — 

That dimpled youth with blooming cheeks, 
Who drinks the words that Beauty speaks, 
More sweet than dew-drops on the lips 
Of hyacinths the fairy sips, 

Just tinctured with Morn’s amber hue, 

And sparkling in the flower-bells new. 

His eyes like liquid mirrors shine, 

Where portraits like herself divine, 

Two tiny nymphs supremely fair, 

The Naiad sees, as imaged there, 

Who’re looking out from Cupid’s eyes, 

As though embowered in sapphire skies. 

When comes the Goddess of the Night, 

In spangled robes of starry light, — 

Divinity of lullabies, 

Who lays her fingers on thine eyes, 


50 WANDERINGS OF CUPID AND THE NAIAD. 

Who hears the sigh within thy breast, 
And calmly whispers thee to rest, 

Then, in that still, celestial hour, 

Again they seek their garden-bower, 

And sink upon soft billowy beds, 

With violets clustering round their heads ; 
But when around the Naiad’s brow, 

Sweet slumber wreathes the rosy bough, 
Then he, the sleepless wandering sprite, 
Steals out beneath the eye of night. 


! 


Scene — Cupid Driven from the Bower of the 

Dryads. 


At night Cupid steals into the bower of the Dryads where 
they lie asleep, and there he sets up a lamp constructed of roses 
and fire-worms. 

He drops a rose upon the bosom of the sleepers, and then 
stands back to admire his work ; but his bow-string catches on 
a twig and twangs so loudly that it wakes them, when they rise 
and drive him out under a shower of roses. 

Love glances back over his shoulder with roguish looks, while 
the Dryads stand laughing to see him skip away under the pelting 
shower of roses. 



























































' 




■ 






























































































































• <• 

































































CUPID AMONG THE DRYADS. 


To grottos green where Dryads dwell, 
Lodged in their mystic wood-lawn dell, 
Where pensile flowers form chambers fair, 
The Archer goes and hovers there ; 

And by the glow-worm’s glimmering light 
That twinkles in their bowers at night, — 
Peers through the curtain’s leafy maze, 
Then steals within to nearer gaze. 

He shapes a disk of roses red, 

With fire -worms in its flaming bed, 

And from this ruby moon there flows 
A stream of roseate light that glows 
Resplendent, flushing like the views 
Of beauty in auroral hues. 

Then to their couches creeping nigh, 
Where nymphs in blissful slumbers lie, 

He drops a rose upon each breast, 

Sweet emblem of the wanton guest. 

With gentle pinion in that hour, 

He fans the trembling crimson flower, 

And while its balmy odor streams, 

Love’s witchery plays in fragrant dreams. 


54 CUPID AMONG THE DRYADS. 

With radiant smile and lips apart, — 

A little sigh, a sudden start, 

The nymphs awake all blooming fair 
As purple morning-glories are. 

In airy robes they long admire 
The rose-lamp with its gems of fire ; 

“ ’Tis Cupid’s lamp !” the nymphs exclaim, 
And every bosom feels the flame. 

Against a twig Love’s shining bow 
Twangs loudly as it takes the blow. 

The humming of the golden string 
Thrills in their souls with honied sting. 
They turn about and ga^e around 
To catch the cord’s expiring sound, 

That dies along the glowing aisles, 

Where Cupid lurks with roguish smiles. 
Discovered where concealed he lay, 

The merry nymphs at warfare play ; 

Each from her bosom plucks the gem 
That trembles on its leafy stem, 

And with a shower of roses thrown, 

Pelt him with missiles all his own. 

But ’twere a sight for Venus’ eye 
To see his vanquished Love-ship fly, 

With stooping shoulders, dodging all 
The fragrant droppings as they fall, 

And smiling to the crimson shower, 

Skip nimbly from that rosy bower, 


CUPID WITH THE OREADS. 


55 


And dart away, the roguish sprite, 

Still glancing back to see the sight, 
While all the nymphs stand laughing by, 
To see the routed Archer fly. 

Love strolls abroad, nor fears he now 
The darkness of the mountain’s brow : 
Well armed he goes for elf or fay 
That might dispute the moon-lit way. 


CUPID WITH THE OREADS. 


The stately Oreads who preside 
In courts veiled on the mountain side, 
Receive the restless, truant boy, 

With soft alarming touch of joy ; 
Regarding him a strolling child, 

Lost on the sombre mountain wild, 

Where languishes the evening ray, 

And thoughtless where his footsteps stray, 
While gathering sweetest floral gems 
For garlands with moss-vested stems ; 

So innocent his infant face, 

He walks a cherub through the place. 

Soft tumult stirs the oread breast, 

As thus they quiz the wondrous guest : 


56 CUPID WITH THE OREADS. 

“Fair youth, from emerald vales below, 
Offspring of cloud and heavenly bow, 
What cell with velvet roses lined, 

Late held thee like a bud enshrined? 
Did some pursuing playful nymph 
Espy thee in the crystal lymph, 
Disporting where the waters cool 
Flow singing from the limpid pool, 

And rob thee there, O cruel jest! 

Of all thy garments, zone, and vest, 

And leave thee, an unsheltered sprite, 

To wander naked through the night? 

In pity hath the spider spread 
Her silken web upon thy head, 

To shield thy brow and curly hair 
From night dews and the chilly air. 

Thou art as welcome to our bower 
As the carnation’s humid flower.” 

Love archly says, “ I found a foe, 

I hope you will not treat me so. 

They drove me forth with missile showers, 
Though had I chose to use my powers, 

I had not wandered to this spot, 

But rested in their sylvan grot, 

And tuned their myrtle boughs above 
With warbling nightingales of love,” 


OREADS IN LAUREL DRESS. 


In tinted robes of beauteous sheen, 

Like *scarlet-oak-leaves tipped with green, 
Each nymph a vestment’s beauty shows, 
That in their native laurel glows, 

When blossoms in a rosy maze, 

With gorgeous clusters load the sprays. 
Their garments bear from balmy bowers 
A forest incense of wild flowers : 

The sweet arbutus peering up, 

With many a blushing humid cup, 

Low creeping midst the violets pale 
Where wood-nymphs tread the bosky vale, 
Weeps liquid pearls from sweetest eyes, 
That ope where spicy odors rise. 

It blooms in fragrant fillets twined, 

That through their beaming tresses wind, 
And blushes to the flowery shade 
Of verdant laurel’s glossy braid, 

In bloomy cinctures, clasping warm 
The lovely charms of beauty’s form. 


* The scarlet-oak. 


CUPID ON A COUCH. 


Fair Cupid ever likes to dwell 
Near Beauty’s royal citadel. — 

Green moss with crimson shoots besprent, 
With mountain flowers ethereal blent, 

Holds Cupid on its downy breast, 

Soft pillowed and in blissful rest ; 

Like some tired bee with heavy store, 

At morn returning, wearied sore, 

That lays its wings with easy fold 
Upon its humid vest of gold, 

And in its waxen cell renews 

Its languid powers with honied dews. 

Here bright Aurora, goddess-born, 

Enthroned in purple clouds at morn, 

Conies blushing o’er the summit wild, 

But stops to view the hunter-child, 

And floods with all her roseate beams 
The covert where Love sleeps and dreams. 
Beneath her eye his velvet cell 
Appears a cradling rosy shell ; 

The bee from blest Hyblsean bower, 

Hums round and scents this baby flower, 


love’s secrets. 


59 


As though a clover mead had shed 
Its drops of nectar round his head. 

Now settling on his balmy lips, 

Along their fragrant path she sips, 

Then flits from Love whose dream of bliss 
Dissolves upon the tingling kiss. 

Aroused by vagrant plundering bees, 

A bright-eyed smiling nymph he sees, 

Bnt slyly glancing through a maze 
Of flowery laurel’s checkered sprays. 

She hears him calling, “ Come, sweet one, 
In thee the graces are outdone ; 

Thy lips the stolen kiss* betray, 

Soon may thy heart the loss repay.” 


LOVE’S SECRETS. 


All timid from the bloomy shade, 

Steps forth the heavenly radiant maid, 

So beautiful that Venus’ eye 
Might view her imaged majesty. 

Her hair is decked with forest flowers 
The wood-nymph culls from fairest bowers, 


* Thinks the Oread kissed him instead of the bee. 


6o 


love’s secrets. 


And down her shoulders’ living snows, 

In loose and wavy tresses flows. 

A cloud-like drapery pure and chaste, 
Caught by a thread that clips her waist, 
Trails by her smoothly rounded side, 

In folds the graces love to guide. 

Now Cupid, gazing in her eyes, 

E’en like a balmy zephyr flies, 

And on her shoulder’s lily throne, 

He perches near her filmy zone. 

Around her neck of primrose charms, 

He twines a cherub’s dimpled arms, 

And poised with lips bent softly near, 

He whispers in the oread’s ear 
Love’s secrets, that each nymph desires, 
Who guards her altar’s votive fires. 

Those listening eyes she casts around, 
With side-long look in rapture bound, 
Bespeak a soul near running o’er 
With pleasant draughts of nectared lore. 
And in this moment of delight, 

A sweet delirium blinds her sight, 

And chases from her mind the thought 
Of garlands that her hands have wrought 
The votive wreath her fingers twine, 
Befitting Cupid’s brow divine. 

Ye oreads, guard your laurels green; 
Attend, but softly tread unseen, 


THE BROKEN THREAD. 


6l 

Lest any sound-wave rippling there, 

Should change the vision’s shape so fair. 

Mark where the opening vista shines 
Through arching boughs and clambering vines, 
The turf-clad altar-rock revered, 

Beneath your leafy arbor reared ; 

Now lift your eyes with soothing joy, 

And look on Beauty and the Boy. 


THE BROKEN THREAD. 


Sweet votary of the goddess fair 
Deemed worthy of Minerva’s care, 
Awhile forsaking her full urns, 

A new and foreign task she learns. 
The Naiad, e’en, who bows her heart 
To her, great patroness of art, 

With skill and wisdom she endows ; 
Great Pallas heeds a maiden’s vows. 
When Cupid sees her thus arrayed 
In vestments of a duteous maid, 

Blest pupil, sitting in her pride, 

With distaff mounted at her side, 


62 


THE BROKEN THREAD. 


He comes, apt novice, most discreet, 

To be a pupil at her feet. 

But while the nymph by Wisdom led, 

Now deftly spins the two-fold thread, 

Love holds the spindle, artless boy ! 

And winds the skein with infant joy. 

While heedless of its texture fine, — 

Like heart-strings of endearing twine, 

He toys therewith, as though ’twere nought, 
Then archly cons the mischief wrought ; 

For Cupid snaps the brittle strand, 

And drops the spindle from his hand. 

Half wound it lies between his feet, 

The maiden’s task not yet complete. 

Thus Love a double office fills, 

Who gives the web its mystic thrills, 

While years run on in happy strife, 
Through sweet tranquillities of life. 
Perchance, his tricky fingers find 
Weak fibres, just to break, then bind, 

Or tangled in his pinion spread, 

Love wantons with the broken thread. 


the coming love. 


Majestic hills with argent crest, 

Olympus like, in grandeur dressed, 

Look down with vigils from on high, 
Where bright Elysian meadows lie. 

Here Flora wanders with the Fay, 

Where trailing morning-glories stray, 

And tips their vases to the sun, 

Among the grasses where they run. 

Her cushioned fingers twist and twine 
The slender tendrils of the vine, 

And train the wild rose by the rill, 

The lily and the fragrant dill ; 

Green rushes and the lady-fern, 

Her bow and bloomy graces learn ; 

The daisy dips, the clover blooms, 

While spiders tread their wizard looms. 
Prim Mead-nymphs prune the field along, 
Cheered by the lark’s most thrilling song, 
Where springs the flag with velvet crown, 
That nods its head of dusky brown, 

And water-lilies in full blow, 

Around the reeds in clusters grow. 


64 the coming love. 

Here hath the Naiad lured the brook 
To wander in her favorite nook, 

That oft the thirsty flock invades, 

While nibbling through the pastoral shades. 

In this Elysium dawns a scene 

That well might charm the Naiad Queen. 

A rocky mound with sloping brow 
Wreathed round with many a balmy bough, 
Hath hollowed in its shady side 
A gothic cell with portal wide, 

Where trailing ivies interlaced, 

Festoon the verge in fairy taste, 

And flowers and grassy fringes fall 
In floral tresses down the wall. 

Here from a crevice in the ledge, 

With turf embossed along its edge, 

A trickling rill with jetting flow, 

Falls in a limpid pool below, 

Where nymphs, Narcissus like, may view 
Their lovely charms of virgin hue. 

But, stranger, you will not deny 
’Tis nearness that enchants the eye. 

Behold the loves of wood and plain, — 
Sweet Psyche with her shepherd swain, 
Together kneeling o’er the cool 
Fair waters of the grotto-pool, 


THE COMING LOVE. 


65 


And gazing down on pictures true, 

The liquid mirror brings to view. 

See how he turns the streamlet’s course, 
And smooths the fountain at its source. 
To form a glass of crystal lymph 
That shall reflect the pretty nymph ; 

And while the image each surveys, 

It seems to woo a nearer gaze. 

Now o’er the brink it peers awhile, 

At once returning smile for smile. 

Within its depths each look they fling, 
Reveals the Naiad in the spring ; 

And every maid who deigns to stare, 

Shall find the nymph who dwelleth there, 
With eyes upturned to heaven above, 

For glimpses of the coming Love, 

Who oft pursues her, hovering near, 

And even wooes the goddess here. 


See Cupid on a holiday, 

As armed he seeks the tempting prey, 
Close followed by the fleecy ewes, — 

So sweet the path that Love pursues ! 
The eager flock his spirit feels, 

While lambs run nibbling at his heels, 
But find no herbage half so sweet 
As grasses pressed by Cupid’s feet ; - 


66 


THE COMING LOVE. 


But Cupid spurns a shepherd’s care, 

His dart is held for trophies fair, 

Reserved for this propitious hour 
When Love asserts his sovereign power. 

How pleased they court their pictured charms, — 
The mirror-spring no nymph alarms, 

No more than great Apelles’ art, 

That struck the raptured Muses’ heart, 

When Venus bloomed in colors bright, 

A picture touched with living light. 

The youth and maid their eyes employ, 
Unconscious of the listening boy ; 

But let their eyes averted rove 

And they shall meet the Coming Love. 





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